


Queen's Gambit

by notsafeforworse



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: I'll add to these as I write, Incest, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafeforworse/pseuds/notsafeforworse
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive is playing a game he doesn't know the stakes ofCiel Phantomhive is orchestrating a game only he knows the rules of
Relationships: Ciel Phantomhive/Ciel Phantomhive, Ciel Phantomhive/Undertaker, Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 17
Kudos: 29





	Queen's Gambit

**Author's Note:**

> Some forewords and notes:  
> \- this is a long, slowburn of a buildup. It's gonna be tame in the beginning. It's not going to stay that way  
> \- please heed the archive warnings  
> \- there's incest and probably noncon
> 
> I hope you have a good time!

Without its servants, the Phantomhive manor is… quite lonesome. The first agenda, Ciel decides, should be to hire new help.

Perhaps that would make it feel more like home. When he was… alive… the manor had always been alight with activity, lit by thousands of candles and no corner free of the quiet conversation between busy servants. Of course, then, the entire family had lived here, and taken guests or thrown parties during London's off season to stave off boredom. He'd never been old enough to debut in society, but he'd attended enough of those parties to remember how much joy they spread.

A shame, then, that now walking through his home felt as if he were moving between the bones of some magnificent beast. Bereft of warmth or light. The only lights now were those required in occupied rooms, and the only voices came from either Undertaker or Tanaka.

Ciel had known that Tanaka would come to his side from the beginning. His duty, after all, was to serve the Earl of Phantomhive, no matter who they may be. Certainly, he wasn't  _ pleased _ about it -- no matter how he tried to hide it behind restrained pleasantries and his kindly demeanor, Ciel could practically feel the reluctance radiating from every word and action. A battle between morals and duty. Ciel is smarter than to bet on coin tosses when they aren't weighted.

He's an effective butler, all things considered, just as he had been when he served Ciel's father. The house is far too big for him and old age is beginning to wear, but he keeps the rooms Ciel occupies clean and lit, and makes sure food is always on the table.

Ciel isn't  _ so _ heartless that he wants to see him suffer. Help would be good for him as well.

Because Undertaker certainly  _ isn't _ any help.

Most of the creature's time is occupied in caring for Ciel, ensuring that his corpse doesn't fall to decay and lifelessness. He takes the reins from Tanaka each night to tuck Ciel into bed, ready his oxygen, prepare his IV drip and blood transfusions when necessary. Ciel has never taken too well to being fussed over. It was his brother who was the sickly one always in need of care. But now it seemed in some cruel twist of fate, their roles were reversed. More than once, he'd found himself wondering if this was what it felt like for him, spending days at a time stuck in bed with only brief glimpses of normalcy between.

On good days, Ciel can make it to the study and spend the day trying to make sense of his new, rightful role as Earl. It turned out that the job wasn't so simple as it had seemed -- there were business accounts to look over, and countless invitations to respond to in timely manners. Budgets that required balancing, supplies for the home that needed ordering, and of course those on his land needed their taxes to be taken-

Had his brother _ truly _ managed all this on his own? It seemed impossible. It  _ had _ to have been. Surely that dog at his heels had managed most of it for him, while he occupied himself with all that ridiculous business, and yes now Ciel looks, there is a whole stack relating to just that as well. If he had help in his time as Earl… then Ciel would learn to do it on his own, naturally. After all, this was his inheritance, and he wouldn't stand for his brother to be better than him at what he was born to do.

He picks up one of the documents on the desk, its title so large it practically begs attention. Something about a tax return for… the Funtom Corporation. A toy company, run by the Phantomhives. He can feel his own expression sour, mouth set into a tight frown. Small hand clenching into a fist so tight that he crumples the paper in his fingers, creasing it with his grip. Yes… he had said he wanted to start a toy company, hadn’t he? That he wanted to leave for London. Leave Ciel on his own.

Ciel didn’t like that idea, then. Holding the tax return over one of the candles lighting up his desk, he decides that he still doesn’t like the idea very much. The fire presses its way through the paper’s center, slowly eating at letters and numbers alike to burn them to nothing, making them disappear. If only the company could be turned to ash so easily…

He’d done it anyway. Of course he had. Even though it had hurt Ciel. Made him cry. He’d just waited until Ciel was dead so he could live out his dreams without guilt. After he’d cut him up. Butchered him like an animal: then he had the absolute gall to--

Ciel blinks slowly in surprise when the fire reaches his fingertips, singing them. But he doesn’t let go of the paper, watching the flames lick at his skin and slowly blister it until they run out of fuel and die out to nothing in his hands. Undertaker had done an incredible job of restoring his body, but he hadn’t managed to properly restore Ciel’s nervous system. Pain struggled to register in his mind. His fingertips  _ did _ hurt, didn’t they? They press together, rubbing, tearing at his burns and opening his skin without pain.

Undertaker spoke regularly of wanting to turn Ciel’s brother into one of his bizarre dolls. Something about a perfect set. But it would be a shame for him to not feel pain… Ciel had always found him cute when he cried, and he would, wouldn’t he? If Ciel made him hold all these damn tax returns while they burn. Perhaps he’d stack them, have him hold them in his open palms. Watching helpless as the flames made their slow way towards his hands.

Reaching for a pen, Ciel notes that idea down on a fresh sheet for later reference.

“Undertaker?”

The creature’s tall form often slunk in the corridor or darkened corners of the office, watching Ciel with an intense curiosity and something akin to hunger. As though Ciel were some small prey he was more interested in stalking than devouring. He was no demon, after all -- unlike his brother, Ciel would never willingly throw himself to the wolves.

“The little Phantomhive calls for me?” His grin hides itself behind his sleeve, long nails sharp and catching candlelight with their polish. Ciel raises his head up to look at him impassively, holding out his hand to him.

“Fix it.”

Undertaker makes a great show of sighing, making his slow way over to take Ciel’s tiny hand in his own and turn it over carefully. Examining him as though he were tarnished porcelain instead of skin and bone. “You must be more careful with the body I gave you… It’s a rare privilege to become one of my dolls.”

“It’s a rare privilege to be so close to me.” Ciel bites back, lips pressing into a pout. It only makes Undertaker laugh, which makes him pout all the more. “It should be child’s play for you to fix.”

“Of course it is.” The creature’s rough fingers stroke the underside of Ciel’s palm, tender and adoring. Slowly sliding them down the boy’s wrists, under his sleeves to where the skin is most soft and sensitive. Where his pulse should beat against the pressure, but lays deathly still. “You didn’t feel the flames? I thought we were making such progress in your physical therapy…”

Ciel’s nose screws up in distaste. That meant  _ more tests. _ They were never ending and Undertaker didn’t seem to grow weary of them. “Tests can come later. Right now, I have important business to attend to. And I’ll need my chess board.”

"The little Phamtomhive plans to play a game?"

"Of course." Finally, Ciel manages to smile up at his guardian, steeling his fingers beneath his lower lip. "I've missed playing with my brother… And winning will be twice as sweet with what we're gambling on."

A look of fondness passes over Undertaker's face, one that makes Ciel's chest swell in spite of himself. He'd always thrived under the praise of his father -- like Vincent, Undertaker's real smile shows itself in the narrowing of his eyes rather than on his lips. "Does the little Lord know what you're fighting for?"

"Not a clue, I imagine. But isn't that what makes it more exciting?" Another of the tax returns is picked up, and Ciel sets to work writing out a letter to go alongside it.  _ I have missed you, brother… I hope you'll play with me just like we used to. _

**Author's Note:**

> Let's all please appreciate the fact I never had to use O!Ciel's name
> 
> My Twitter is @noncon_pdf if you'd like to come say hi


End file.
